


You Belong Here

by dalula



Category: The Secret Garden - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27472684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalula/pseuds/dalula
Summary: If I asked who this garden belongs to, what would you say?He had asked them once.Us,they had replied.And me? Who do I belong to?They had understood, then. Dickon was theirs, just like they were his.
Relationships: Colin Craven/Mary Lennox/Dickon Sowerby
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	You Belong Here

**Author's Note:**

> rewatched the secret garden (1993) and got so much nostalgia :')

The sun smooths its soothing rays over the garden; warming the grass blades, the flowers, the lazing animals at ease in the comfort of their home. There’s the subtle smell of nature around them, an indescribable blend of the plants and creatures around them. For Colin, every sensation from the garden ushers memories of Mary and Dickon. The swing is doused in the echoes of laughter; the soil brings thoughts of careful hands brushing as they plant seeds. Even the stairs evoke the first time he stepped into the garden. Their garden.

A bird sings around them. Colin doesn’t know what kind, and though Dickon would, he doesn’t want to disturb the peace and ask. Someone’s hand glides under his untucked shirt. From how soft and small it is, and how fearlessly it explores, Colin knows that it’s Mary’s.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Colin can feel Mary’s smile as it presses against his shoulder.

“Thinking -”

“I do wish you’d stop doing that; nothing good ever comes from it.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Mary says. “I was  _ thinking  _ how hard Dickon has been working lately.”

Since promoted to groundkeeper, following Ben’s death, and with lambing season in full tilt, Dickon had been more and more absent. They’d meet him whenever he had a spare moment, bringing him sandwiches and cake for an excuse to see him, but he’d have little time to talk.

“Yes, and?”

“Well, he deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

Mary’s words finally make Dickon shift, sitting up to look over Colin at her. 

Colin turns away from her to look thoughtfully at Dickon, admiring him. He’d grown strong, tall, and broad-shouldered, skin tanned from all the farmwork. Now, when they stood next to him, they had to look upwards to meet his gaze. His eyes, however, remained the same, bright, kind, and framed with dark lashes.

“Why, that’s not a bad idea, Mary.” Colin shares a heated, mischievous smile with his cousin before rolling over Dickon, disregarding his surprised  _ oof, _ to sandwich him between them. He rests a hand over the fastenings of Dickon’s trousers and leans in close to his ear. “After all, as you said, he has been working so awfully  _ hard _ .”

Colin punctuated the word with a firm squeeze to his friend’s awakening member.

Dickon blushes like this is their first time enjoying each other, his hands clenching onto the grass below him. 

“No good to let you both do all the work and me none of it -”

Mary kisses his pink cheek to silence him. “It’s your day off, Dickon. Let us take care of you?”

“Yes, be a good lad and lie back. All you need to do is enjoy yourself, that’s an order.”

Even with the many buttons of his trousers and underwear, Colin’s fingers are quick to free Dickon’s interested manhood to the comfortable heat of the afternoon. His prick is a delicious weight in Colin’s hand, thick with a temptingly flushed and leaking tip. He gives it a loving stroke, pulling a groan from both of their throats as it twitches in response.

“It’s very excited already, isn’t it?” Mary says, watching Colin fondle between Dickon’s legs. “You’ve been so busy with work; it’s been such a long time since we’ve had the chance to play together. And you know it’s no fun without all three of us.”

“No fun at all. Mary’s dreadfully selfish without you.”

Mary glares at Colin. “That mouth should do something much more productive than spewing untrue remarks.”

“You know I only tease, my love.” He leans over to kiss her, right in front of Dickon. Their tongues meet and dance, tasting the elderflower wine they’d shared recently, twining around each other in a carnal show of obscenity. It hurts to part, but Colin’s own member throbs between his legs demandingly. “I do adore your suggestion, however. He tastes divine, doesn’t he?”

Dickon mumbles above him, likely something charmingly modest and bashful, but Colin’s no longer interested in listening. He positions himself on his stomach and eagerly begins mouthing any part of Dickon’s shaft he can reach, licking at it until his impatience gets the better of him and he lowers his mouth onto down it.

“Much better,” she declares. “Finally, some peace.”

Ignoring the dirty look she receives from Colin, she pulls Dickon’s face to hers for a kiss, swallowing his moans.

Dickon’s hands open in an invitation for theirs, one for both of them. Neither is good at sharing, but Dickon soothes the strain, proving, again and again, he will always be theirs, just like their garden.

_ If I asked who this garden belongs to, what would you say? _ He had asked them once.

_ Us, _ they had replied. 

_ And me? Who do I belong to? _

They had understood, then. Dickon was theirs, just like they were his.

It doesn’t take Dickon long to finish; it’d been far too long since either of them had touched him, and Colin’s urging tongue was too talented to refuse. Once Mary slipped her hand beneath his shirt to brush over his nipples, it was over. He surrendered to the both of them, trusting they’d be there when he opened his eyes.

“Well done, Colin. It’s about time you did some work around here.”

Colin sticks his filthy tongue out at Mary, a sordid imitation of the children they used to be.

“Shameless,” she scoffs, even as her cheeks flush.

He makes a big show of swallowing, just to embarrass her further, before turning to Dickon.

“Was that good?” He asks, always eager for praise.

“Aye.” It seems to be as much as he’s able to say, face still tilted towards the blue sky, eyes staring unseeingly at the clouds.

Colin smiles at the sight and rests his head on Dickon’s stomach. Mary’s expression is fond as she watches her boys. Their hands remain clasped together, like the daisy chains Dickon had taught them to make one summer. The garden is still and warm.

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to keep this sweet and vaguely suggestive but i really can't resist writing blow jobs huh


End file.
